


mine

by poetictragedy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Choking, Claiming, Comeplay, Hair Pulling, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Mates, Nipple Play, Possessive Behavior, Scratching, collaring, mate!fic, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetictragedy/pseuds/poetictragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes home smelling like multiple strangers and it sets Derek off. So, what do you do when you’re possessive over your mate? You buy them a collar to show the rest of the world who they belong to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mine

”Anyone home?” Stiles calls out as he steps into the house, looking around the foyer with his book bag slung over his shoulder, hand wrapped tightly around the strap. He has just enough time to shut the door before Derek comes out, jaw firmly set and hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, eyes glowing red. It takes Stiles by surprise and he scrambles back toward the door, dropping his book bag when Derek stalks forward, using his much larger body to pin Stiles back against the door, sniffing him like he’s some sort of dog.

Except, he is _kind of_  a dog and sometimes Stiles forgets that.

“Dude,” Stiles says, trying to move his hands before Derek pins them against the window beside his head, the sniffing resuming. “What the fuck — do I smell like dinner to you or something?”

Something like a growl rumbles from deep in Derek’s chest and Stiles feels sharp - inhumanly sharp - fingernails digging into his wrists. He yelps quietly and tries to twist out of Derek’s grip for a moment before he realizes what he’s going up against. Hot, ragged breath falls against his neck and usually Stiles would be turned on but not with Derek’s werewolf claws sinking into his wrists and definitely not with him sniffing Stiles like he’s going to eat him for dinner.

Derek pulls away for a moment and the sharp nails retract, which Stiles is thankful for, but he’s not thankful for the way Derek’s looking at him, eyes red. 

“Who are they?” Derek growls and the sound of his voice like that never ceases to make Stiles shudder, a tingle of pleasure - and possibly fear - traveling down his spine. “Stiles,” he growls again, getting closer until Stiles puts his hands on the middle of Derek’s chest, feeling his body shudder underneath his palms.

“Who’s  _who_ , Derek?”

Something flashes across Derek’s face and his eyes glow darker as he gets closer, his face inches away from Stiles’. His breath is hot and shallow, falling against Stiles’ face and he wants to pull back but he’s stuck between a door and a large, hard werewolf who’s breathing in his space and who looks like he could huff and puff and blow the house down at any moment. 

“I can smell them all over you,” Derek offers, his voice gravelly and low, eyes going between normal and red. “I’m only going to ask one more time,” he continues, the tone of his voice dropping a bit, “so who  _are they_ , Stiles?”

Blinking, Stiles shakes his head and swallows thickly. “I don’t know who —”

“ _You’re lying to me_.” Derek barks the words out and Stiles thinks, for a fleeting second, that he heard the older man’s jaws snap shut.

“Whoa, whoa — okay,” Stiles mumbles, licking his lips quickly as he glances up at Derek for a second before looking away, staring at anything and everything that’s not the trembling werewolf in front of him. “I caught up with some people after practice and they wanted to talk to me about something for Biology, okay? They’re some friends from school and they hugged me in thanks. Now, will you  _please calm down_?”

Derek cocks his head, eyeing Stiles carefully to gauge whether or not he’s telling the truth before backing up, letting him slide down the length of the door. He falls onto the hardwood underneath them with a thump and a curse, legs folding underneath him as he looks up at Derek, watching him stalk away.

The older man doesn’t say anything and Stiles huffs, watching him disappear into the living room before getting to his feet and dusting himself off. He doesn’t know what Derek’s problem is but he’s not about to ask what the fuck it is, so Stiles just sighs and grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he goes into the living room, spotting Derek on the couch.

“So,” Stiles starts, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, licking his lips nervously as he looks everywhere but Derek again. “What are we doing tonight?”

“ _You’re_  going home.”

Stiles snaps his head toward Derek and gapes at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Derek snaps, staring at Stiles with intense hazel eyes.

“I also heard you _last night_  when you told me to come over after practice. So, here I am,” Stiles pauses and holds his arms out, gesturing to his body.

With a growl, Derek gets off the couch and goes to crowd Stiles’ space again, sending him scrambling back toward the front of the house. They make it to the door again and Derek shoves Stiles against it, putting a hand on the glass beside his head, eyes darkening.

“Go,” he orders, giving Stiles the ‘I’m the Alpha now and you better listen to me’ voice that he’s heard one too many times. 

Stiles clenches his jaw and shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just because you’re having some territorial issues with me and you can’t stand to smell someone new on me doesn’t mean you have to throw a tantrum. You’re an adult, dude, act like one.”

“You want me to act like an adult,” Derek parrots and Stiles nods, swallowing thickly and Derek can hear his heartbeat pound in his chest. “Do adults have sex with high school juniors?”

That question is like a punch in the gut for Stiles and he gasps, biting his lower lip as he looks away from Derek, staring at the ugly new wallpaper on the walls behind him, turning the question over in his mind. Part of him wants to say that they can do whatever the hell they want because, okay, Stiles isn’t stupid; he knows the law and he knows that the age of consent is sixteen, which is how old he is, but he also knows that he’s the Sheriff’s son…

And Derek being suspected for murder that one time, but that’s besides the point.

“Some of them do,” he finally answers, looking at Derek with soft eyes. “I’m a consenting part of this relationship, so it’s not like you’re  _forcing_  me to do anything I don’t want to.”

“Just go home.”

“Make me,” Stiles challenges, clenching his jaw when Derek growls and presses against him harder, pushing Stiles’ arms against his chest. “Derek,” he gasps out, trying to wiggle a bit to get his arms out from between them.

Derek pulls back with a sigh and runs a hand down his face. “Go home and I’ll stop by later, okay? I’ve got things to do,” he says, moving the hand from his jaw, laying it against Stiles’.

“Do you  _promise_?” Stiles asks eagerly, maybe being a little too eager.

“If I say yes will you go home?” 

Pursing his lips together, Stiles shrugs and gives Derek a grin. “Maybe, maybe not,” he says, dropping his arms at his sides, blinking up at Derek.

“I promise I’ll come by later,” Derek says, leaning down to kiss Stiles softly. “As long as you keep your window open, because it may be later than you’d normally expect me.”

“Window open, gotcha.” Smiling, Stiles pokes Derek in the stomach and laughs when he growls, jaw clenching at the gesture. “Don’t be a sour wolf, dude,” Stiles says with a huge grin on his face.

“Do you have to call me that?”

“What — sour wolf?” Stiles asks, blinking.

Derek shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips turn up. “Yes, why do you have to call me a sour wolf?”

“Because,” Stiles answers, shrugging a shoulder as he ducks underneath Derek’s arm, wrapping a hand around the doorknob. “I’d answer, but you said I need to go home.”

“Yes,” Derek agrees, dropping his hand away from the door, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. “Go home, I’ll come by later.”

“And if you don’t —” Stiles starts, but Derek cuts him off.

“I will, now  _go_.”

Nodding slowly, Stiles puts his hands up and then wraps one around the doorknob again, giving Derek a grin before leaving the house, practically bouncing down the steps before going across the lawn. Derek stands in the doorway and watches him, shaking his head with a tiny, amused smirk on his face, lifting a hand when Stiles waves at him.

The jeep disappears down the road and Derek slams the door shut as he turns to go through the living room again, his body trembling once more. He managed to keep himself under control when Stiles was there, but now he lets himself get lost in the anger and the possessiveness, his hands shaking as his fingernails elongate.

A howl leaves his chest and Derek tries to reign himself in, tries to resist shifting but the scent of other people is around him, clouding his mind. He tries not to breathe but he can’t help but pull deep gulps of air into his lungs, pulling the smell along with it, and he growls, going through his house before bursting through the back door.

Derek rolls his neck back and forth, feeling his body shake as he shifts and, once he does, he bounds into the forest, howling and growling as his claws dig into the earth. He runs until he can’t run anymore and he runs even more after that, pushing himself as far as he can before he goes back home, calming down before shifting back to his human form.

He walks back into the house naked and leaves the back door open, heading to the living room where he keeps all of his clothes. As he gets dressed, Derek thinks of ways he can show people that Stiles is taken, that he already belongs to someone so they’re stay away… but, as he yanks his jeans on, he remembers what Stiles said about just helping them. 

Frowning, Derek slips his boots on and grabs his jacket, shrugging into it quickly before heading out of the house. He tucks his hands into his pockets and grabs his car keys, unlocking the doors by using the remote before getting into the driver’s seat, staring at the steering wheel.

After a moment, he puts the keys in the ignition and starts the engine, listening to it roar to life, revving it a little. As he backs out of the driveway, Derek gets an idea and grins as he puts the car in drive, speeding down the road quickly, tired spinning in the gravel a bit.

Derek drives to town and keeps going, not stopping until he gets to the city where no one knows his name and where no one sure as hell knows Stiles’. He navigates his way through the city and ends up in the parking lot of a pet store, leaning against his car as he stares at the building, debating within himself if it’s a good idea or not.

It doesn’t take Derek long to make up his mind and he goes into the store with both hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, smiling brightly at a woman at the register when he passes. She blinks at him and he hears her heartbeat stutter before beating quickly and he chuckles quietly, heading to the dog section.

Spending an hour in a pet store on a Friday night seems like an odd thing to do but Derek is feeling anxious and excited by the time he leaves, a bag swinging at his thigh as he walks to his car. He unlocks the doors and opens the passenger side, setting the bag on the seat before shutting the door, walking around to the driver’s side.

He takes his phone out and checks his messages, all of them from Stiles and nearly every one of them reminding Derek about his promise. Shaking his head, Derek sends Stiles a message saying he’s on his way, that he had some business to clear up in the city, and then he puts his phone back into his pocket. 

Once he’s in the car, Derek starts it and backs out, heading out of the parking lot before heading out onto the road, doing just above the speed limit until he reaches Beacon Hills. He slows down when he gets to town and relaxes against his seat, thumbs drumming against the steering wheel as he drives, a dumb grin on his face as he gets closer to home.

Derek goes home first because Sheriff Stilinski doesn’t know that his son is going out with a man who was accused of murder and Derek likes it that way. He doesn’t want to get into shit with the sheriff and he sure as hell doesn’t want Stiles’ father keeping them from one another; thinking about it makes Derek antsy and he pushes the thoughts from his mind.

He parks his car in the yard and turns it off, grabbing the bag from the seat before getting out. Once his feet hit the ground and the door is shut, Derek starts running, the plastic bag whipping and crinkling in the wind as he makes his way to Stiles’ house, getting there in record time.

When he gets to Stiles’, Derek puts his hand through the hole in the bag and lets it dangle from his wrist like a clunky bracelet, before he jumps onto the side of the house. He climbs up and holds onto the window, sliding his legs through the opening before pushing his entire body through, standing in the middle of Stiles’ room with a grin on his face.

“You didn’t break your promise,” Stiles says from his computer, turning to look at Derek with a raised brow. “What’s the murderous look for?” He motions and cocks his head to the side, laying an arm across the back of his chair.

Derek blinks, realizing that he’s grinning, so he smiles instead. “Sorry,” he says, moving to sit on the edge of Stiles’ bed, laying the bag beside him.

“Is that a present?”

“Of sorts,” Derek answers, giving him a one-shoulder shrug.

“You’re being very mysterious,” Stiles grumbles as he turns his chair around, leaning  back against it, eyes on Derek. “Are you going to tell me if it’s a present or not or can I go back to my homework?”

“You’re doing homework,” Derek starts, quirking a brow as he continues, “on a Friday night? You’re not sick or else I’d scent it on you, so what’s up?”

Stiles shrugs and spreads his hands helplessly. “I need to do something while I was waiting for a certain sour wolf to get here.”

“You’re never going to stop with that, are you?”

“Are you ever going to stop being a stick in the mud?” Stiles counters, grinning.

“Eventually, yes,” Derek says, nodding his head as his smile widens. “Come here,” he beckons, holding a hand out to Stiles, long fingers wiggling slightly in invitation.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Stiles nods and gets up, moving to where Derek is, sliding a hand over his slowly, smooth skin meeting rough, calloused flesh. He takes a breath and then moves to sit next to Derek on the bed, letting his fingers drag along the length of the older man’s, dropping his hand against his leg once he’s sitting down.

“You did get me presents,” Stiles accuses, grinning.

“I said of sorts,” Derek corrects, rolling his eyes before moving to grab the bag, pulling the crinkling plastic onto his lap. “Before I pull this out, I want you to understand something first.”

Stiles nods slowly and looks at Derek with half-lidded eyes, mouth closed for once.

“You are  _mine_  and I don’t like smelling other people on you,” he explains, moving a hand into the bag, eyes locked on Stiles’. “More specifically, I don’t like smelling  _strangers_  on you, like I did today. I don’t like knowing that there are people out there who don’t know that you belong someone already,” he continues, moving his fingers over the leather strap, waiting for Stiles to reply before he pulls it out.

“I’m — I’m  _yours_?” Stiles says, his tone surprised.

Biting his lip, Derek nods his head slowly, offering a small smile to Stiles.

“So, what, I’m like… your mate?”

“If you want to put it that way, yes.” Derek nods his head slowly, wrapping his fingers around the leather, just itching to pull it out. “So, I get jealous and possessive when you’re around other people and I can smell them on you. When I can smell someone else’s arousal —”

“Someone aroused by  _me_?” Stiles interrupts, scoffing.

“Stiles,” Derek says, giving him a warning growl.

Stiles holds his hands up and blushes, biting his lip. “Sorry, go on.”

“When I can smell someone else’s arousal,” Derek continues, glaring at Stiles to keep him from interrupting or scoffing, “on you, I go crazy. You have no idea what that makes me want to do, because you’re not a werewolf; mating isn’t carnal and instinctual for you, it just… _is_.” 

“So, you get jealous and hulk out,” Stiles offers, nodding solemnly.

Rolling his eyes, Derek snorts and laughs quietly. “I guess if you want to put it that way, yes, but it’s more than that. Smelling someone else’s scent on you, the smell of lust rolling off of you and it not belonging to either of us, makes me want to kill because that’s what you do when someone messes with your mate. You kill to keep anyone away from what’s rightfully yours.”

“Rightfully… yours.”

“Yes,” Derek says, swallowing hard. “But you have a choice in this, too.”

Stiles blinks and nods slowly, eyes on Derek’s. “And my choice is —?”

“You can choose to be with me or you can choose a life without me; just because you’re my mate, doesn’t mean that I have to be yours. You’re human, so you have free will when it comes to choosing a mate.”

“And if I don’t choose to be your mate,” Stiles whispers, licking his lips slowly as he drops his eyes away from Derek, settling his gaze on the bag on his lap. “What does that mean for you?”

“I’d live life without you, plain and simple.” Derek chuckles, trying to give the conversation a light feeling but it does nothing to stop the pounding in his chest. He knows he just gave Stiles free will to run and leave him now, the thought of that tearing him up on the inside. His fingers curl around the collar and he digs his nails into it, waiting for Stiles to say something — anything.

And Stiles stays still, his eyes locked on the bag covering Derek’s hand, biting his lower lip as he thinks and Derek can almost hear the gears turning in his brain. He shifts awkwardly on the bed, fingers curled around the collar, nails dragging across the inseam stitching, listening to Stiles’ heartbeat quicken for a moment before evening out.

“Do you need an answer now?”

“No, I don’t need one now,” Derek answers, although he wants to know Stiles’ decision, his heart pounding harder than before. “Unless you have one and you want to tell me,” he adds, giving Stiles a smile.

Stiles takes a deep breath and smiles back at Derek. “Being a gorgeous, albeit sour wolfish, werewolf’s mate for the rest of my life? Worse things could happen,” he says, laughing at the perplexed expression on Derek’s face. “That’s a yes, idiot.”

“It’s a yes,” Derek says, working his mind around the word until it finally sets in and he realizes that Stiles just agreed to be his mate. “You said yes.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Stiles asks, quirking a brow.

Derek shakes his head and slips his hand out of the bag, moving across the bed to grab Stiles, pushing him down on the mattress. He climbs on top of him and leans down, catching Stiles’ lips in a biting kiss, dragging his teeth along his boyfriend’s lips before kissing him roughly, pressing their hips together slowly.

The kiss is short and mostly sweet, what with Derek’s teeth sinking into Stiles’ lips a few times before letting them go and then, suddenly, Derek is off his lap. He moves to the other side of the bed, running a hand through his hair as Stiles sits up, leaning back onto his elbows, blinking.

“I did bring you a present,” Derek admits, giving a wolfish grin.

“I knew it, but can I have it later? After I’ve had all of…” Stiles trails off and makes a sweeping motion up and down Derek’s body, biting at his lower lip.

Shaking his head, Derek grabs the bag and opens it. “You can have me later, when you’ve gotten your real present,” he says, moving his hand inside the bag before grabbing the collar. 

“You’re mean,” Stiles mumbles, looking at the bag for the first time, blinking at the Petsmart logo on the front. “Did you… get me a dog?”

“No, I didn’t get you a dog.” Derek snorts and pulls the collar out of the bag, pushing the plastic away as he holds the circle of leather in his palm. “But I did get you this,” he says, mumbling the words quietly, trying to gauge Stiles’ reaction.

When Derek pulls the collar out of the bag, Stiles blinks at it and his jaw drops toward his chest, eyes going wide. The leather is black, the colour contrasting against Derek’s tan skin, and he closes his mouth, swallowing.

“A collar,” he says, eyes bugging out more when he says the word. “You got me a collar… but why? Is it some weird, werewolf mating ritual? Because I didn’t get you one, so I don’t think this is going to work.” Stiles is rambling and he forces himself to shut his mouth, pursing his lips together.

Derek shrugs nonchalantly and plays with the leather. “Because I want people to know who you belong to,” he answers, looking up at Stiles, grinning a little.

“And you want me to wear this,” Stiles motions to the collar, “in public? No way in hell, dude! I don’t care if I’m your mate or whatever, I’m not wearing that shit in public.”

“How about you wear it in private and we get you something else to wear in public, maybe a bracelet? A ring? A necklace?” 

Huffing, Stiles looks up at Derek and swallows thickly. “I dunno, Derek, this is all going really fucking fast,” he says, stumbling over his words a bit. “I just found out that I’m a werewolf’s — a fucking  _Alpha_ — mate and then you want me to wear that…”

“I know it’s a lot, but we can start with this for now,” Derek says, as he unhooks the collar and shifts forward, wrapping the leather around Stiles’ neck. He stops when the teenager stiffens and puts a hand on either of his wrists, stopping him for a moment. “I’m not going to hurt you, you know that, right?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me,” Stiles says matter-of-factly, rolling his eyes as he swallows thickly, looking at Derek’s face. “I just feel kind of like I’d be your bitch if I wore it.”

Derek raises a brow and smirks. “And you have a problem with being my bitch?”

“Well, you see… I…” Stiles sputters, shaking his head to clear it. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t look at it as being my  _bitch_ ,” Derek murmurs, leaning in to ghost his lips down the length of Stiles’ jaw. “Think about it as being my mate, the only person I’m going to have sex with for the rest of my life — the only person I’m going to  _love_.”

When Derek puts it that way, it doesn’t sound half bad to Stiles and he swallows again, closing his eyes as he leans in to Derek’s lips, biting his lower lip. He gives the Alpha the slightest nod and feels the cool leather press against his neck, Derek’s lips trailing up along his cheek as he hooks the collar behind his head.

Derek pulls away when the collar is in place and growls at the sight of Stiles with the wide, black leather around his neck. The teenager lifts a hand to touch the collar and Derek watches him, eyes darkening and his hands curling into fists against his sides.

“Mine,” he growls, leaning forward to catch Stiles’ lips in a rough kiss, slotting their mouths together messily, his hands going to the teenager’s waist, holding onto him tightly. He licks his way into Stiles’ mouth quickly and presses their tongues together, feeling a moan vibrate against his lips as he digs his fingertips into Stiles’ ribs.

They pull away and Stiles gasps for air while Derek moves his lips to every inch of exposed skin he can, peppering Stiles’ neck with small kisses. He continues to growl ‘mine’ in between kisses and bites, nipping at Stiles’ skin gently causing the skin to become red, but he doesn’t care. 

“Yours,” Stiles moans, letting his head fall back, throat exposed to Derek’s lips and sharp teeth, shuddering when he feels his canines drag across his Adam’s apple. He  moves a hand to Derek’s hair and twists his fingers into the dark locks, gasping when he feels the older man’s lips wrap around his Adam’s apple, sucking on it roughly.  ”All yours,” he rasps, scratching across Derek’s scalp, feeling the rough scrape of Derek’s stubble brush across his throat and neck, making him shudder.

Derek moves to the side of Stiles’ neck and sinks his teeth into his skin just enough to break it, but not hard enough to turn him, before sucking on the spot. He sucks until he hears Stiles whimpering in his ear, begging for him to fuck him, to mark him and make him Derek’s.

Growling low in his chest, Derek pulls away and gets off the bed, shrugging out of his jacket before tossing it onto the floor behind him. He nudges his boots off next and kicks them into the corner of the room, barely wincing when he hears them knock against the wall. Stiles, on the other hand, is thankful that his father has pulled another graveyard shift and won’t be home until the morning because that noise? That would have gotten Sheriff Stilinski’s attention and he would have come running into Stiles’ room with a gun, only to see his son and the much-older, once accused murderer naked on the middle of his bed.

“C’mere,” Stiles says and holds his hands out to Derek, curling his fingers into his palm before pulling them back and repeating the process. He rakes his eyes up and down Derek’s body, biting his lip when he sees his broad shoulders, the tight black fabric of his t-shirt clinging to them perfectly. Licking his lips, Stiles moves his gaze down and cocks his head, looking at Derek’s biceps, his chest, his stomach, and then his legs before sweeping his gaze back up again.

Derek grins when Stiles looks at him and waits until their eyes meet again before moving toward the bed, standing in front of it with his thighs pressed against the edge of the mattress. He moves a hand to the outside of Stiles’ jean-clad thigh and rubs his thumb over the rough denim, using the other hand to spread the teenager’s legs slowly.

“On your back,” he commands, moving his hand away from Stiles’ leg for a moment to grab the bag and toss it into the ground, something jingling inside. He growls when he sees Stiles open his mouth, knowing that he’s going to ask what it was, but he shakes his head and then nods pointedly at the bed.

Stiles obeys the commands and lays on his bed, his head propped up by two pillows and his legs spread, heart beating wildly in his chest. He knows Derek can hear how hard it’s beating and he blushes, embarrassed by just how fast it’s going, until he’s got Derek between his legs and a heavy chest laying against his own. All of his thoughts go out the window and Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him closer as he hooks a leg around his waist, lifting his hips.

Their lips tough in a small, chaste kiss at first before Derek’s hand finds the back of Stiles’ head and he holds him in one place, cupping the side of his skull as he leans down and kisses the teenager roughly. It’s a slow kiss but passionate and rough, Derek’s tongue hot and wet against Stiles’ lips and he opens then automatically, allowing the Alpha entrance into his mouth.

As Derek licks into Stiles’ mouth with long, hot swipes of his tongue, he moves a hand between them and undoes the teen’s pants, making quick work of the button and then the zipper. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, swallowing every noise that Stiles makes, fingers curled around the back of his head.

And Stiles swears that he can feel the sharp edge of werewolf claws against his scalp but he’s too wrapped up in Derek and his mouth and the way he’s twisting his tongue around Stiles’. It’s maddening and Stiles is turning into a big pile of nothing underneath Derek, who’s holding him down on the bed with just his chest, both of his hands moving to the end of Stiles’ shirt.

The soft fabric moves up his skin and Stiles arches off the bed, pushing his hips against Derek’s before pulling away from the kiss, gasping quietly. He blinks his eyes a few times before settling them on Derek’s face, teeth caught on his lower lip. Derek gives him a smile and straightens up, kneeling between Stiles’ legs on the bed, pushing the t-shirt up his chest, eyes roaming down his stomach slowly.

He traces the thin trail of hair going from Stiles’ navel to the top of his pants and then snaps his eyes back up, locking them on his boyfriend’s face, smiling a little more. When he can’t push the shirt up any farther, Derek pulls Stiles up into a sitting position and shucks the fabric up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor aimlessly.

Not even a second after the fabric is gone, Derek’s pushing Stiles against the bed again and kissing his chest, biting and sucking on his skin before getting to his nipples. He flicks one with his tongue and smirks at the noise he pulls from Stiles’ throat, moving a hand up the flat plane of his stomach until his fingers touch the other nipple. As he flicks his tongue across one, Derek tweaks the other between his fingers and then alternates, scraping his teeth across the hardened skin before looking up at Stiles with a smile.

“Derek,  _please_ ,” Stiles whines, looking down at the Alpha before letting his head fall back, moaning quietly when Derek swipes his tongue across his nipple one more time. He arches off the bed and whines louder when he feels a large hand press against the middle of his stomach, pushing him back down against the mattress.

It’s frustrating and Stiles wants Derek to do more; to touch him more and to fuck him, but Derek is taking his sweet time licking and sucking on Stiles’ nipples. He moves both hands to the back of Derek’s head and tangles his fingers in the dark locks, giving them a small tug until he feels Derek growl against his chest, giving his nipple a small bite.

Stiles is hard in his boxers and he pushes his hips up, desperately seeking friction of some kind but soon Derek’s hands are on his hips. He holds Stiles against the mattress and kisses up his chest slowly, nuzzling against his jaw before turning and biting the juncture of Stiles’ neck and shoulder. 

“Please,” Stiles says, the word coming out in a choked off sob as he tugs and pulls on Derek’s hair more, trying to get him to move, but he’s still sucking and biting at Stiles’ shoulder. Sighing heavily, Stiles stops trying and lays against the mattress with his eyes screwed shut and his lip between his teeth, chewing on it until he feels Derek’s mouth slide away. “Derek,” he moans, blinking his eyes open slowly as he turns his head, staring at the Alpha.

“Mine,” is all Stiles gets in response and that one word sends a shiver down his spine, causing his toes to curl slightly. He swallows and keeps his eyes on Derek’s, feeling a finger slide between the leather of the collar and his neck, pulling it away before letting it fall back against his skin. “All mine,” Derek growls before moving his hand down Stiles’ chest slowly, working it toward his jeans.

Stiles growls in frustration and the noise pales in comparison to one of Derek’s growls, but it gets the Alpha’s attention anyway and Stiles yelps quietly at the intensity of Derek’s gaze. He blushes and snags a canine on the edge of his lip, moving his hands down Derek’s sides slowly, resting them on his hips. 

“All yours,” he agrees, nodding slowly as he brushes his thumbs across Derek’s hips, feeling the sharp bone underneath the cotton of his shirt. “Forever.”

“Forever,” Derek parrots, nodding his head slowly as he works Stiles’ jeans off his hips, moving the denim down his legs quickly. He has to maneuver himself a little on the bed but he gets the jeans off and tosses them onto the floor, leaning down to press a kiss to the inside of Stiles’ knee. “You look good with the collar,” he says, lips brushing against Stiles’ skin as he speaks.

Blushing, Stiles chews on his lip and moves a hand to the collar, running his finger along the width of it, before hooking it underneath the leather, giving it a small tug. He can feel Derek’s eyes on him and that only makes him blush more as he explores the collar, taking time to admire it before moving his hand back to Derek’s hair, tangling his fingers in it.

“Of course I do,” he says, laughing a little when he feels Derek’s stubble brush against his knee. “I look good in it because I’m your bitch.”

“Damn right,” Derek growls, biting Stiles’ knee before curling his hands around the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down his legs slowly. He pulls the fabric all the way down and tosses it onto the floor, letting his eyes rake up and down Stiles’ body slowly, licking his lips when he sees his cock. “And my bitch is ready for me, huh?”

Stiles groans and nods eagerly, raising his hips slightly. “Yeah, come on.”

“Alright, calm down.” Derek laughs as he moves off the bed and stands, moving a hand back over his shoulder, bunching his shirt in his fingers before pulling it over his head. He tosses it onto the floor once it’s off and works on getting his jeans undone, shimmying out of them and his briefs, kicking them away. 

“Nightstand,” Stiles says, nodding to the cabinet beside his bed when Derek looks at him with a confused expression. “Condoms and lube are in the nightstand.”

Derek blinks and nods, moving to the nightstand quickly. “I knew that,” he grumbles, opening the drawer to grab a condom and a small bottle of lube, shutting the drawer again before moving to the bed between Stiles’ legs.

“Sure.” Stiles laughs and licks his lips, bending his legs a little as he looks up and down at Derek’s body, taking it all in. He presses his feet flat against the mattress and lifts his hips, tongue darting across his mouth and Derek stares at it, growling as he pops the cap on the bottle. “What’s that for?”

“Your mouth is very distracting,” Derek answers, pouring lube onto his fingers and smirking when he hears Stiles laugh. “It’s perfect and all I want to do is shove my cock into it, fuck your mouth nice and slow.”

Stiles groans and closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he huffs, moving a hand along his lower abdomen until Derek pulls it away, pinning it against the mattress beside his hip. “Can you do that one day? I mean, fuck my mouth like you were talking about because that’s — wow, hot.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, his fingers suddenly pressing against Stiles’ entrance.

“Mm?”

“Shut your mouth or I’ll do it for you.”

The breath in Stiles’ throat catches and he coughs, snapping his eyes open so that he’s staring at Derek, biting at his lower lip in between fits of coughing. He nods his head slowly and huffs again, tangling his fingers in the sheets underneath him, pushing his hips back against Derek’s hand, feeling his fingertips brush against his rim.

One finger slides in and Stiles moans quietly, closing his eyes again when he feels the digit slide in all the way. It starts sliding in and out and Derek starts a quick rhythm before pressing a second finger in beside the first, pushing them in slowly, crooking the tips once they’re in all the way. Stiles groans and writhes, hips canting off the mattress, fingernails scratching the sheet before bunching it in his palm, tugging it.

He feels Derek’s fingers brush against his prostate and nearly cries out but he manages to bit down on his lower lip, riding the wave of pleasure he gets hit with when Derek crooks his fingers again. The hand on his moves up and Derek’s hooking a finger underneath the collar and Stiles gasps, feeling the leather pull against the back of his neck. 

“You okay?” Derek’s voice is rough and Stiles nods in response, unable to find his voice with his boyfriend’s fingers buried deep inside of him. He feels them slide out before a third is pressed against his entrance, pushing in slowly before they’re in all the way and Stiles thinks he’s never felt so full in his life as he does in that moment. 

Then the fingers are twisting and scissoring, working Stiles open quickly and he comes undone underneath Derek, canting his hips and panting heavily. He’s sweaty and a hand moves down the front of his chest, blunt nails dragging across his nipples and he arches off the bed more, pushing back against Derek’s hand.

Derek pulls the digits out and presses his middle finger against Stiles’ rim, rubbing around the circle slowly before pushing it back in quickly. He pulls it out again and opens the condom wrapper, pulling the latex out before sliding it down over his cock, grabbing the bottle of lube again. 

After stroking lube onto his cock, Derek tosses the bottle onto the floor before moving his hands to either of Stiles’ hips, pulling him forward with a growl. The head of his cock presses against his entrance and Stiles keens, twisting his head back against the pillow as he lifts his hips higher for Derek, wrapping both hand around his forearms.

He pushes into Stiles slowly and grips his hips hard enough to bruise, groaning at the tight heat that surrounds his cock. Gasping, Derek hunches over and slams his cock into Stiles quickly, causing him to scream out and move a hand to the back of his head, sweaty fingers tangling in his hair. 

“Derek, fuck,” Stiles pants as he hooks a leg around Derek’s waist, pulling himself closer with a loud moan. “Fuck, holy fucking shit..”

A weak laugh escapes Derek’s throat and he leans down, pressing his forehead against Stiles’ neck, rubbing his stubble against the teenager’s chest. He rotates his hips slowly and pulls out, straightening up before slamming into Stiles quickly, moving a hand up the middle of his stomach to his chest. 

The constant  _thumpthumpthump_  of Stiles’ heart beats against his palm and he growls, letting his head fall back as he fucks into Stiles quickly, hips snapping forward against his ass. He thrusts into Stiles in rhythm with the beating of his heart and he growls, feeling Stiles clench around him, moving his hand up to the collar around the teenager’s throat.

“Touch me, please,” Stiles begs, throwing his other leg around Derek’s waist, sliding them down until his calves are hooked around Derek’s thighs. He gets a growl in response and he shivers at the sound of it, moving a hand down between Derek’s shoulders, clawing at his skin.

Hunching forward again, Derek opens his eyes and moves a hand up to Stiles’ cock, wrapping his long fingers around the base, stroking up slowly. He licks his lips and snaps his hips against Stiles’ ass, trying to keep the same pace with his hand and his hips, losing rhythm for both of them; his hand squeezes around the middle of Stiles’ cock before he starts stroking hard, his hips slowing down.

“Stiles,” he growls, dragging his thumb across the head of Stiles’ cock, listening to him moan loudly. “Fuck, _all mine_.”

“Yeah, fuck… yeah, come on.” Stiles groans loudly, digging his nails into Derek’s skin, dragging them up and over his shoulder, gripping it tightly. He pants when he feels the hand on his cock quicken, squeezing every so often just underneath the head and that alone makes Stiles want to come…

It’s the squeezing and the panting above him and the cock sliding in and out of him quickly, sharp hips pressing against his ass that pushes Stiles closer and closer to the edge. He keens, twisting his body before slamming back against Derek, feeling a hand press down against the front of his throat, the noise cutting off quickly. He lets out a small squeak and lets his eyes roll behind his eyelids, his stuttering up against Derek’s hand, his vision going white hot, waves of pleasure washing over him.

When Derek realizes where his hand is, he pulls it away from Stiles’ throat and moves it down his stomach slowly, apologizing with touch as he slams into the teenager harder. Sweat pours down the back of his neck and he strokes Stiles quickly, trying to pull him over the edge, encouraging him with quick swipes across the head of his cock.

“Come on,” Derek pants, hand flying up and down Stiles’ cock, eyes raking over his face, watching his mouth open and tongue dart across his lips. He hunches over Stiles’ body and bites down on his shoulder hard enough to make the teenager scream, his body shuddering as he comes.

Derek’s name is torn from Stiles’ mouth in a ragged moan, his body trembling and hips stuttering against Derek’s hand as he strokes him through his orgasm. When he comes down, Stiles falls back against the mattress with a huff, mumbling something about loving Derek and loving his cock, both comments going unacknowledged by Derek, but he hears them, storing the information away for later.

With a loud growl, Derek pulls out of Stiles and takes the condom off, tossing it onto the floor aimlessly before straddling Stiles’ chest. He strokes his cock quickly and leans back a little, head thrown back a little and sweat dripping down his chest as he keeps stroking himself. 

Moaning and snarling, Derek drops his chin toward his chest and opens his eyes, pointing the head of his cock at Stiles’ neck, looking at the black leather that’s pressed tightly against his skin. He growls and starts stroking himself quickly, letting his eyes flutter shut as his orgasm builds, his hands and knees shaking as he gets closer.

With one last stroke, Derek comes on Stiles’ neck and shoulder, some of it getting on his chest as he strokes himself through his orgasm, moaning Stiles’ name loudly, panting hard as he comes down. He licks his lips and settles back on Stiles’ stomach, sitting there for a moment before sliding off, laying next to the teenager with a heavy sigh.

“What was that for?” Stiles asks, groaning quietly as he feels come slide down his chest and shoulder, most of it coating his neck; he knows that Derek got some on the collar and he wonders if it’s ruined. Only part of him hopes that it isn’t.

Derek blinks and hums, looking at Stiles with a lazy grin. “I scent-marked you,” he explains, grinning even more when he hears Stiles groan. “What’s the matter?”

“Scott is going to smell it on me,” Stiles says, throwing a hand over his face. “He’s going to smell  _you_  on me and he’s never going to let me live it down!”

“He already smells me on you,” Derek murmurs, moving onto his side, moving a finger along the middle of Stiles’ stomach. “Now he’ll just smell it even more for a while, until I can’t smell myself on you and then I’ll do it again.”

Stiles groans and blushes, feeling the heat creep along his face and the back of his neck, thinking about Scott smelling  _his_  Alpha’s jizz all over his best friend. He sighs and moves his hand away from his face, turning to look at Derek, biting his lower lip. “The people I helped yesterday? They weren’t wolves.”

“I know, but now any wolf that comes near you will know that you belong to an Alpha.” Derek smirks and leans forward, kissing Stiles’ lips slowly, pulling away with a small humming noise. “You said you loved me,” he says, quirking a brow at the colour that fleets across Stiles’ cheeks.

“Did I?” Derek nods his head slowly and Stiles swallows. “Huh, I didn’t think I said it out loud; I thought I said it in my head, like I always do.”

Grinning, Derek moves a hand to Stiles’ neck, playing with the collar. “You say it in your head? And how often is always?”

“Yes, what’s it to you?” Stiles grumbles, closing his eyes.

“I’m just curious.”

Stiles sighs and shrugs a shoulder. “I say it like, every time we’re together but I’m afraid you’re hear it with your freaky werewolf hearing or something.”

“I’m not psychic,” Derek laughs, shaking his head when Stiles blushes more. “And do you mean it — do you really love me?”

“If I lie, you’ll know,” Stiles says, shrugging again. “I dunno, do I?”

Derek purses his lips and looks at Stiles, nodding. “I think you do.”

“Then you’d be right. Congratulations to the sour wolf, tell him what he’s won, Johnny!”

“I won something?”

Snorting, Stiles opens his eyes and glares at Derek. “You won an annoying mate for the rest of your life who has ADHD and who won’t shut up for all the money in the world. Isn’t that a great prize?”

“I think it is,” Derek says, leaning in to kiss Stiles again. “I’d take you over any other prize in the world.” 

“Not only is he a sour wolf, he’s a strange one!” Stiles pats Derek’s cheek and smiles, leaning in to kiss him again. “I need to clean this come off,” he says when they ease apart, moving his hand down Derek’s jaw, feeling his stubble underneath his skin.

Derek nods and settles back against the bed. “Don’t take the collar off,” he says, smirking at Stiles when he gapes at him, closing his eyes off. “I want you to wear it to bed.”

“Can I not?”

“No,” Derek growls, shooing Stiles away.

“And this is what I have to deal with forever,” Stiles grumbles as he gets off the bed, moving to grab a pair of boxers off the floor. He slips them on and goes out the door, feeling Derek’s eyes on him the entire time, causing him to blush furiously all the way to the bathroom.

Even though he wants to, Stiles doesn’t take his collar off; he cleans around it and looks at the marks on his body, running a finger over the bite mark on his shoulder, shuddering. He dries himself off and looks in the mirror one last time before leaving the bathroom, flipping the light off on his way out.

When he gets back into his room, the floor is cleaned up and Derek is underneath the blanket with his left arm stretched out across the pillows, looking as inviting as ever. Stiles blushes and closes the doors behind him, flipping the lights off before moving across the room, climbing onto the bed with Derek.

He settles against Derek’s body and wraps an arm around him, pressing his face against the Alpha’s neck, breathing in deeply. An arm moves around his shoulder, a rough, calloused hand pressing against his skin, fingers trailing up and down slowly.

“I love you too,” Derek says, pressing his lips against the top of Stiles’ head, smiling against his hair. “Even if you’re annoying and I want to strangle you half the time.”

Stiles laughs sleepily and nuzzles Derek. “Right back at you, sour wolf.”

**Author's Note:**

> I get that the term "sour wolf" is vastly overdone in this fandom but, please don't kill me for using it several times. I wrote this shortly after joining the fandom and I didn't have a problem with it then but, now.... I can see the problems with it.


End file.
